


Small Things are Harder to Ask For

by AlephandMutt (orphan_account)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Asexual friendly, Carlos POV, Cecil Is Not Described, Comfort, Early dating, Light Angst, M/M, Where the heck did this come from?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:29:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2128473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/AlephandMutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sure Cecil bares his soul on the radio, but that's not the same as having a living breathing date in front of you...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Things are Harder to Ask For

      Carlos remembered what must have been their third or fourth date together: a quick late dinner at Jerry’s Tacos.  It was after dark and the night air was cooling, so they skipped the outdoor area of picnic tables in favor of a booth inside.

      Cecil was funny; a chatterbox even off the air, asking Carlos about his day. He did this thing where when Carlos would get in the weeds explaining an experiment, Cecil would focus in, very intently, do active listening signals like asking questions or rephrasing bits of information -- this must be a interviewers trick -- and nod intently with little ‘ohs’ and ‘uh-huhs’ until Carlos would finally stop, realizing he was bubbling on about something so technical only another peer in his field would stand a chance at comprehending his story. And then Cecil would be holding his hand across the table (When did that happen?) eyes lit up with a sneaky restrained smile…

      “You have no idea what I’m talking about.”

      And Cecil would crack up and blush. “No,” He’d admit. “But you tell it so well!” And then he would squeeze Carlos’s hand before letting it go with a slightly guilty glance.

      There were other things Cecil did, sort of like the hand thing…  Bumping shoulders softly, brushing his arm when they maneuvered through a tight crowd, and he couldn’t forget of course Cecil touching his cheek while he was busy examining those trees in Mission Grove Park.  It was innocent enough, and obviously Cecil was more outgoing than Carlos was, but something didn't quite sit right.  It didn't feel like sexual pressure exactly. More like it reminded Carlos of an old dog he’d known that would root up under your hand or lean against your knee insisting on attention.

      Presently at the restaurant the waitress took their orders and Cecil continued telling Carlos about Khoshekh somehow catching a large spider that strayed across the sink too close to his hover range, and how the cat had freaked out everyone who entered trying to show off his prize.

      Carlos laughed and reached for his iced tea and found his hand immediately grasped by Cecil’s.

      Cecil saw the startled look on Carlos’s face and withdrew blushing. “Oh. Ha. I’m sorry.”

      “It’s okay,” Carlos chuckled easily.

      But Cecil was biting his lip with a grimace and turning his face down and away.

      “Cecil?” Carlos leaned in, amused at the vivid blush, and forced the lowered head to see him. Catching his eyes, Carlos grinned. “So just exactly how long has it been since you were seeing someone?” He teased.

      “Oh!” Cecil’s back straightened up and he gave a forced laugh with a shrug. “You know, small town and all.  It’s been a little bit…” He smiled at Carlos and quickly looked out the window at the tables outside, lit by a pool of yellow street light. Carlos read the situation: his companion turning away from the others in the dining room, looking out at escape, caught and genuinely embarrassed and trying to play it off with a laugh. His heart sank.  

      Quickly he moved to Cecil’s side of the booth, blocking him from view. I’m an idiot, he thought.  Small town indeed.  Cecil knew everybody and a small town meant a limited dating pool.  And while Carlos didn’t move quickly, didn’t rush into things, he’d never felt pressure that there might not be someone else he’d like to meet if he just availed himself. Cecil wasn’t the only one who’d immediately chatted up Carlos when he arrived in Night Vale. Earl Harlan had introduced himself as well as one of the Dark Owl employees.

      Looking at Cecil fidget and avoid his gaze, Carlos was struck. He remembered suddenly his freshman year of college. Everything had gone smoothly, perfectly. His dorm mate was another serious student, so they got along, he got the schedule he wanted and liked his professors. He was doing well.  But at night this weird sadness would sweep over him - it was overwhelming- and he would lay staring at the ceiling, eyes leaking down into his ears and pillow. What the hell was wrong with him? It hadn’t occurred to him how alone he’d feel, how much he’d taken for granted being surrounded by his family, the touches that happened daily: hugging his mother, or aunt or grandmother, his younger siblings climbing on him, his sisters playing in his hair when he grew it out, his little cousin falling asleep on his shoulder when he took the younger kids to a movie.

      What if you were starved for that? Had no idea where to find it or who would be safe and receptive to asking for it? And here he was teasing his date for wanting to hold hands.

      I am an ass and an idiot, Carlos thought again, but he put a hand on Cecil’s shoulder. “You want to move outside?” He asked lightly.

      Cecil nodded. “Yeah. That would be good.”

      At the picnic table, Carlos straddled the bench seat and patted the spot in front of him. “Come sit with me.”

      When Cecil hesitantly did the same, Carlos scooted up behind him and gathered Cecil back against his chest and hugged him in tightly. As Cecil curled in, folding his arms up like a mantis, Carlos wrapped his around them too and found one of his hands to clasp - snugging his grip and feeling Cecil give a shuddering sigh.

      “I’m sorry. I’m sort of slow on the uptake sometimes.”

      Cecil hiccuped in response and when he lay his head on Carlos’ shoulder, letting his forehead drop against his neck, Carlos felt a dampness through his shirt on his collarbone. He didn’t say anything else; just kept holding Cecil firmly and nuzzling his hair gently.

      He’d needed this once badly too. And as dumb as he felt about how he stumbled into it, at least he’d figured it out and was gratified to do this for Cecil. It was also something of a relief…  Carlos had dated a few guys whose primary ways of connecting were limited to sex or snark.  And while sex was great, well… Carlos wanted someone with facets, a softer person, more like himself.

      They did eventually get their tacos, and Cecil had perked back up when Carlos suggested they take them back to his place and stream a movie.  “Oh, oh!  Have you seen Cat Ballou?”

**Author's Note:**

> This came out in some free writing for the chaptered piece In Between Days, and I liked the content, but didn't think the tone matched the other, so I cleaned it up to be on it's own.


End file.
